The One
by Starbuck0322
Summary: Snippets and oneshots of angst. Hopefully leaving you wanting more...
1. Little Black Dress

_Little Black Dress_

* * *

"I'll just be a minute," she says, entering her apartment, leaving Richard Castle alone to close the door.

Castle takes a moment to watch her exit the living room, turning a corner leaving him standing iron clad in tuxedo, carefully hanging onto the moment as she walks from his presence. She is a vision in her strapless, tight fitted, black dress, leaving not much to his imagination, and everything to his desire.

When he had invited her to accompany him to his book signing party, she had demanded there be no presents as before, no lavish dress. She had insisted she could dress herself, and in Kate Beckett fashion she had done it to perfection, with not a single strand of hair out of place, carrying herself in such a manner that Castle seemed to be continually picking his jaw from the floor. He could not turn his gaze and thoughts away from her the entire evening, finding it difficult to pull his hands from her body. He would utter a small groan when he had to draw away from her to sign a book, to give a speech, all in all coming back to her when it had passed.

True, on occasion her back would straighten and she would pull from him slightly, but at the steady motion of his hand she would succumb and relax to fit in tightly beside him. He would notice her look around, her gaze falling on the other women in the room, their eyes turning to her envious. Quietly they would talk to one another; Castle, the envy of their desires. This pleased him, more than any other longing gaze he had ever received; for Beckett was his that night, and he was not going to let his Nikki Heat out of his sight.

So when Beckett received the urgent call, and turned into him whispering, "There's been another murder, I need to go," Castle, without hesitation nodded saying, "We'll slip out the back."

She had told him she needed to change, her high heeled stilettos, incapable of treading across soggy terrain. And as the rain outside falls in sheets across the city of New York, Richard Castle finally takes steps across her living room to her mantle picking up a photo frame. In it a young Kate Beckett smiles uncontrollably as her mother, hair cascading across her face, reaches out, tickling her. Castle can't help but smile placing the photo back in its place, turning the frame with a gentle finger.

Out of the corner of his eye, through partially closed door, he notices. Turning his head he sees her, standing with her back to him, hands fumbling at the top of her zipper, her clasp, unwilling to release. As if by another force he is pulled from his location, quietly stepping across to her door opening it, releasing a small creek.

Her hands stop in their motions, aware of his presence as he draws nearer to her backside.

Without saying a word he reaches up to her hands carefully pulling them from their work, letting them fall to her side. His fingers turn to the clasp, pulling it apart. He takes a moment, his hands gently resting on her back before continuing.

As her head lowers, her hands are brought together in front of her. He draws his attention to her zipper slowly lowering it, his fingers trailing behind, her skin rising at his touch. He is careful not to catch her dress, as new skin is revealed to him, her bare back, her lacy panties.

He finishes his work, his hands pulled away from her skin, drawn to his hair. He sighs turning, walking from the room, leaving her alone standing still. Kate Beckett raises her head letting out a held breath, silently willing her heartbeat to slow.

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who has reviewed any of my work... from the bottom of my heart, I truly appreciate. You guys rock!_


	2. The Elevator

_The Elevator_

* * *

He follows her into the elevator, immediately moving to the back to stand in the corner. She presses the button to the ground floor turning to him, and with vacant expression looks up at him, forcing a smile.

"So now we pretty much have nothing to go on," Richard Castle says to Detective Kate Beckett leaning against the wall of the elevator.

"No we don't," she sighs, the elevator stopping as two people join them in their journey to the ground floor.

He smiles shyly, looking over to her, the days events readable on her face. The questioning, the searching, the digging, the prying. It was even at times like these that Castle noticed her radiance. It was days like these that she seemed more human than detective, unable to hide her femininity. It was days like these that Castle found he was taken more with her, drawn to her gentle nature which he so rarely was meant to see.

Her tired eyes look to him again, carefully she cocks her head, "What?" she says edging near to him. A few passengers move in beside them.

"Nothing," he says pausing, focusing on her hand as it is brought to her face, pushing aside a dark strand of hair. "You just look like you could use a drink."

The elevator stops again.

She looks behind her noticing their company entering the elevator and is suddenly pushed forward into Castle, his arms encircling her, her hands drawn to his chest. Their faces inches from each other, she looks up at him, avoiding his eyes. She attempts to pull from his arms, but he is holding her tightly, another passenger directly behind her. They are surrounded now and as their eyes meet, the rest of the elevator melts away. Locked in each other's gaze, they are alone and secluded.

He releases his arms from around her drawing his hands to rest on her hips, holding her against him. Her breath hot and heavy, she tries her best to keep him from noticing the flush of her cheeks. It seems as if his head is turning toward her, lips inches from her skin. She can feel his breath on her cheek, pressed tightly to him, his hands secure at her waist.

He is close enough to feel the length of her, relishing at the feeling of his hands on her body, wanting so badly to take this opportunity to explore her frame. He is allotted one chance, and shifts his fingers slightly moving just under the edge of her shirt, her soft skin greeting his touch.

"Well will you?" he says finally, lowering his head toward her.

"Will I what?" she says in a whisper, almost inaudible, her breathing heavy, back straight from the feeling of his hands on her skin.

"Will you let me buy you a drink?" he questions.

She does not say anything, heartbeat quickening, his scent filling her senses, intoxicating, causing her to feel lightheaded.

"Is this your floor?" The silence around them interrupted. They turn to see an elderly lady, cane in hand slowly edging toward them, "Are you kids getting off?" she questions further.

They had reached the ground floor, alone in the elevator, not a single person in sight, Beckett still held by Castle, pressed against him tightly in the corner. Their breath continuing, hot and heavy.

Both stifle a giggle. As Beckett smiles up at him, he releases her from his touch.

Beckett takes steps toward the lady, "Thank you," she says, choking back her laughter.

Castle follows her out drawing Beckett's eyes to his.

She smiles again looking up at him, "Alright Castle, you got a deal," she says nudging against him with her shoulder, "I'll have that drink with you."

* * *

_As always... thanks for your dedication... I love you guys... :) xoxo_


	3. The Dance

_The Dance_

* * *

Bypassing the bouncer and guest list, Richard Castle pushes his way through the crowd that has developed over the last few hours at Avalon. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lanie, her hands furiously motioning him over. As he draws nearer, he can barely make out what she is trying to tell him over the roar of the music.

He leans down to her asking, "What?"

She smiles, straining, "I said, 'Thank god you're here'."

"Where is she," he asks, eyes turning to the crowd, drawing in a breath.

Lanie points in front of them, "Over there with some greaseball. She's had a few too many if you know what I mean."

"And that's why you called me?" he asks raising an eyebrow.

"Please," she says cocking her head to the side, "Trust me. I knew you'd more than jump at the opportunity to come in here on your white horse and carry her home."

Castle raises an eyebrow, "Am I really that easy to read."

She shifts her body weight to one side, "Please Mr. Castle. Any fool can see how you drool over her."

He smiles warmly, "But can you really blame me?"

"Well," she says reaching for her purse in front of her, "Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She sure as hell is not listening to me."

Castle smiles again, patting her on the shoulder. He raises his voice so she may hear, "You did the right thing."

He leaves Lanie's side heading into the mass of people, eyes scanning the crowd.

It is not long before he sees her, sidled in front of what looks to be a younger man. The man's fingers lift her shirt, hands moving across her skin, moving in time to the music. Her hands reach up to grab the young man's neck, her eyes closed; she is grinding against him.

Castle's eyes are drawn to her body; the motion in her rhythm unchanging. New skin being exposed as the man's fingers search higher up her body, tight, muscular. Castle shakes himself from his reverie, pushing people aside. He moves his way through the crowd to stand in front of the couple. Leaning closer to them he shouts loudly, "Hello Kate."

The young man stops moving against her, looking up at Castle. Kate Beckett's eyes open lazily, in drunken haze.

"Who's the suit?" the young man asks, standing up straight, pulling Beckett with him.

Beckett smiles sluggishly, turning her body to straddle the side of her dance partner, "He's no one. Just a writer monkey that's all." She giggles against her partner, pulling at his shirt, turning her eyes away from Castle.

"Well if he's only a writer monkey, he can beat it," the young man says, running a hand through his wet hair, the other still wrapped inside Beckett's shirt, "She's with me Pops."

"Did you hear that?" Beckett laughs pointing a twisted finger at Castle, "He just called you Pops."

She takes a step toward Castle, long enough for him to take her hand, leaning down, his lips close to her ear, "We need to get you home detective."

Beckett immediately pouts, shaking his hand away saying, "But I was just having some fun."

Before she has a chance to get back into the arms of her greased friend, Castle reaches around, encircling her back with an arm, "I insist Kate." He smiles, speaking in her ear once more, "You know what happens to Cinderella after midnight don't you." Castle pulls his face away from her slowly, looking into her dark eyes, her eye makeup heavy, smudged. They flicker for a second before she pulls from his stare, resting her head on his shoulder. She runs a hand across his chest, the other drawn up to rest on his back.

"But Cinderella needs her Prince," she says against him, shifting her body weight, leaning into him.

Castle's arm is pulled from Beckett. He is turned, Beckett's dancing partner looking up at him coldly, shouting, "You heard her. She was just having some fun."

Castle laughs modestly. Turning his attention to Beckett, his hands on her shoulders, he begins to push her through the crowd.

His arm is pulled away forcefully this time, the young man shouting, "I said-" but before the greased dancer has a chance to finish, Castle's right fist makes contact with his face, knocking the young man to the floor.

Castle shakes his hand slightly; a ruckus emerges from the large crowd around them. Disrobing his jacket, he places it around her shoulders. She does not argue, unrelenting to his motions as he pushes her gently through the crowd.

It is not long before they find Lanie again. Arms outreached, she pulls Castle's jacket tightly around Beckett, smiling up at her, patting her face gently. "Ah Katie," Lanie says carefully, "What are we going to do with you?"

Beckett smiles lazily, "I think I'd like to go home now."

Lanie looks to Castle who in turn smiles, nodding slowly.

She turns her attention back to Beckett saying, "Well, I think that's a fine idea."

As they move to the exit, Lanie leans into Castle, avoiding his eyes, "I saw what you did back there, Mr. Castle," she smiles patting him on the arm, "Don't you worry. I'll be sure to give Kate all the little details."

Drawing an arm around Beckett's shoulders, Castle smiles. "Thank you," he says as the three head out into the Manhattan summer night.

* * *

_I know I sound like a broken record but thanks again for the reviews, you guys just make me want to write and write and write and... Next entry to be entitled "The Kiss"... Hmmm... I wonder what its about._


	4. The Kiss

_Just got back from playing hockey and had to post this for all of y'all... ASAP... Happy reading me loves..._

* * *

_The Kiss_

* * *

"You ok Castle?" Kate Beckett asks striding up beside Richard Castle where he stands in the breakroom of the 12th Precinct. White mug in hand, he stares out the window partition in the room, sighing heavily.

His gaze falls to the liquid in his cup. Slowly he brings it to his lips, his sights now set outside the window again; two officers talk loudly in the hallway.

"Castle?" Beckett asks again, drawing her own cup, placing it under the dispenser. Fresh aroma fills the room.

"Hmm," he mutters looking over to her slowly.

Beckett grabs her mug shifting her body so she is facing him, taking a sip. "You seem distracted," she says matter-of-factly, "You thinking about our victim?"

Castle nods, at long last meeting her eyes. "I guess the kids are hardest to stomach. 12 is so young."

"Death is never easy," Beckett says genuinely, shifting her body weight toward him.

"She was 12." Castle sighs, "Straight-A student. Cheerleader. She put her hair in braids for godsakes. Her favourite movie was _High School Musical_. Her favourite song was from _Hannah Montana_."

"She was young," Beckett says, looking down into her mug.

"That's just it," Castle remarks, "She'll never get old. She'll never go to prom. She'll never have a first kiss," He pauses, thinking, "I mean a real good first kiss, the kind that leaves your tongue tingly, your toes curled." He smiles warmly as Beckett blushes.

"Well," Beckett pauses, contemplating, "I guess not everything ends up a fairytale."

"It can be," he says taking another sip, "All you need is practice."

Beckett sighs shifting on the balls of her feet. Avoiding his eyes, she stares blankly at the floor.

Castle continues, "You ever been kissed like that Detective?"

Beckett smiles shyly, "I don't know if I ever have. I think I have."

Castle places his mug on the counter, turning toward her. She looks up shocked, afraid she has said too much. "That wasn't..." she begins but Castle ignores her.

"Well that's just not good enough," Castle crosses his arms, "Every girl needs to be kissed like that," and then smiling, "That's why they invented the kiss."

"Oh and I assume you are a master in this art of this 'perfect kiss'," her heartbeat quickening, unaware what has made her say this.

"You could be the judge of that," he says unfolding his arms, edging nearer.

She is motionless in front of him. He raises a hand grabbing her mug placing it beside his, his eyes following his motions. Another hand reaches up to draw the blinds, darkening the room slightly. He draws his hands to hers, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand, instantly relaxing her grip.

He looks up from her hands slowly, reaching her eyes which read shock and curiosity. She does not push him away. Her back is straight, her frame rigid as his hands come up to her neck, thumbs lightly brushing the line from her chin to her ear. He takes the tips of his fingers tracing her hair line, pulling her hair from her face; her eyes closing. She releases a held breath, her feet unsteady; completely bound to his will.

He draws himself toward her, a hand moving to play at the base of her hair line, teasing her nape with gentle strokes. Her hands reach for him, bracing herself against him as he draws her from the counter where she leans.

Eyes intent on her features, with lust in his eyes, Castle draws a silent breath feeling her hot and heavy against him. Her breath floods over him in waves of ecstasy.

Slowly he draws his lips to hers, carefully, her senses prickling. She can feel the pang in her heart melting away, her frame loosening with his touch. His lips move steadily against hers, gentle as if she is fragile; making her lower back tremble, her stomach heavy. For an instant she lets her tongue travel into his mouth to which he pulls away; their eyes meeting, their skin turning cold without the close contact of each other. He smiles carefully at her as she looks to him, wanting, needing. Slowly he draws his lips back to hers, placing a single kiss. Her eyes close once more.

He pulls away from her lips, placing a trail of kisses up her jawbone, breathing softly against her skin. Her head held in his hand. Her hair entwined in his grasp. She feels her knees give out as he reaches her ear, nibbling softly on her lobe. A shiver runs down her body and she pulls at him, putty in his hands. Gently she rocks against him without noticing. She can feel him smile against her jaw as he makes his way back to her mouth, taking her lips, suckling. The tip of his tongue enters slowly. Taking a moment, she focuses on her body and uncurls her toes.

He pulls from her, noticing the change in her. His hand drawn from her head, he takes his fingers and runs them through her hair returning her to familiar detective form. He waits for her heavy breath to subside, her shoulders to relax. Her eyes are held from him, cheeks flushing again, lips red and pouty.

"Well?" he questions.

She does not say anything, returning her attention to the floor. She nods slightly, eyes widening.

Castle, with an air of valour, turns on his heel, leaving her alone to collect herself.

* * *

_That's the way I like it... :P... Seriously... if the writers of this wonderful show want some ideas... I got plenty!_

_Next entry should come soon... Idea is rattlin' around in there somewhere... just. have. to. find. it._


	5. Stop and Stare

_Stop and Stare_

* * *

"It was nice to meet you Castle," she says looking down, warmly wrapping her hand in his. Eyes returning to his own, haunting, making him draw in deeply.

"It's too bad," he says raising an eyebrow, "It would have been great."

She bites her lip again, scratching at something within him, and leans into him, her voice low and steady, her breath treading across his skin, "You have no idea."

She turns on her heel, hands in her pockets, hips swinging.

Richard Castle had never watched someone walk away for so long. The steady motion of her movements, the haunting effect of the way her body moved. Yes, Kate Beckett had stirred something within him, something that had been dormant for quite some time. It was almost as if she was beckoning him to the chase, playing hard to get. And it is in this moment that Richard Castle makes a solemn oath to himself; that one day she would be his.

Grabbing his last look, feeling the guilt swell within him, Castle turns on his heel, walking away. He attempts to control the sensation growing within him; the spring within his step, the numbness within his stomach.

Women had always been readily available to Castle. It was on many occasions that they flung themselves at him, much to his pleasure. But the chase was something that drove him, something that he had developed in the taking of his first wife Meredith. His first love. When his heart was trampled in the early comings of their divorce, he had found Gina, someone to fill the gap that Meredith had left, and suddenly his days of hunting were over.

Women had always been easy to come by, falling to his suave demeanour. Hanging onto his every word, suckling effortlessly at the limits of his success. All of them the same. Not one of them a challenge.

But he can tell that Kate Beckett was not going to succumb easily to his talents. No, he is certain; Kate Beckett was not some prize to be won. It was the hesitation in her responses, the careful choosing of her words. The raising of her brow, the furrow she protected herself with. Even in the feeling of her hand in his that told him his feelings were plausible. His time would come. And this chase was something he was going to enjoy, to relish in, especially when her eyes looked at him sullenly, especially in the way she bit her lip.

Castle smiles to himself, turning cautiously, her distant figure leaning against her vehicle. Slowly he sees her gaze fall upon him, her sight quickly turning when she notices him watching intently.

"Oh, it's on," Castle says to himself, raising a hand, hailing down a cab. There were calls to make, people to see. The hunt for Kate Beckett had begun.


	6. Conversation by Parkbench

_Conversation by Parkbench_

* * *

He finds her sitting on a bench overlooking the park. A team of law enforcement to their left work diligently surveying the ground. He holds out the tightly wrapped sandwich to her. She takes it carefully reaching out another hand to grab the Diet Pepsi he has also brought for her. Taking a deep breath, Castle sits beside Kate Beckett, and leans back.

He watches as delicate fingers tear slightly at the package in her hand, and he sighs, turning to her, asking, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Beckett looks up to him slowly, turning her head in his direction, "I guess so." She takes a bite of her sandwich.

"Why didn't you leave for Boston with Agent Sorenson?"

Castle falls silent, the steady motion of Beckett's chewing the only movement between them.

She clears her throat casually before answering, "Well," she begins, "Boston just wasn't for me at the time."

"Why not?"

"I was needed here," she says, focusing on a figure in the distance, "I was needed in Manhattan."

"With the Force?" he questions, carefully, opening his drink.

"No," she pauses, "With my father." She leans forward resting her elbows on her legs. "He was the worst at that time. I needed to be near him."

"That's very big of you," Castle says swallowing, "To risk your own happiness for your father."

"I was all he had," she says and smiles shyly, "I guess I still am." She takes her drink, "Sometimes we just have to do what's right for the family we have."

"And Sorenson?" he continues, meeting her eyes, "I assume he was hurt."

"He was. He never called. He didn't understand my position." Her fingers artistically pull at the wrapping. "My dad could be pretty hurtful in those days. Our relationship was ugly. But I saw something in him. I saw what he could be when no one else could. And that included Will."

"You're a wonderful daughter," Castle remarks, casually.

"He is my father."

She turns to him in this moment, taking the time to look him in the eyes. Glistening green, memories flooding back, tracing across her features. She takes a corner of her lip into her mouth and slowly lets it go. Castle, entranced by her movements, stares purposefully at her mouth; her tongue that darts out to lick her lips, pink and pouty. Aware that she has caught him in this reverie, he looks up at her, their eyes meeting once more.

"True, but I'm sure a lot of people would run from that sort of ugliness. It just goes to show you how strong willed you are. How incredible you really are."

They hold their gaze for only a moment longer before she turns from him, back to the meal in front of her. "I would like to think so."

"But you are," he says, "Trust me. I can see it."

She smiles warmly and takes another bite of her sandwich, "Thank you Castle," she says and swallowing turns to him, "Where were you 10 years ago when I needed to hear that?"

"Living in a terrible marriage. I was pretty ugly in those days too. It was my writing that helped me through it."

"I guess it helped me that way too then. A way I could escape."

"Oh really?" Castle says edging toward her, "Do tell."

Beckett's back straightens, aware she has been caught.

"Ah crap," Beckett mutters, turning back toward him, "Alright, the cat's out of the bag now." She sighs heavily, taking a sip of her soda. She turns to him, his eyes intent. "Yes, Castle. Your books helped me through that difficult time in my life. It's part of the reason I became a cop. I guess I wanted to catch the bad guys. And Storm always caught the bad guys."

"I knew it!" Castle remarks, clenching a fist, "So you're Castlelover01? Castlefan49? Do spill."

Blushing, Beckett turns away, "I don't know what you're referring to."

"Ah," Castle grins, reaching out to wrap a loose arm around Beckett's shoulders, pulling her into him awkwardly, "Ms. Beckett. My number one fan."

"I wouldn't let it go to your head, Castle," she says smiling up at him, a hand reaching out, patting his chest, her hand bracing her agaisnt him, "Your ego is big enough already."

Bringing his lips outside her ear, he lowers his voice, "It's not the only thing that's big."

"That's quite enough!" she exclaims as she pulls from him abruptly, standing, looking down at the look of playful triumph on his face. She sighs heavily, asking, "Are we quite finished with the 20 questions, Mr. Castle?"

"Hey Beckett!" A voice calls out to her from behind a tree, "You gotta see this!"

Castle looks to Beckett delighted, tossing his sandwich aside, "I believe we are Detective, I believe we are."


	7. Flowers for your Grave

_Flowers for your Grave_

* * *

Sheets of rain fall down onto Richard Castle as he walks slowly across the graveyard. It is dark this evening; a low ceiling of sinister clouds spill their sadness over the city of New York. It has been days since he has seen the sun, felt warmth on his skin. The gloom seemingly stuck to his insides like a thick residue, clawing at any happiness he should have; a happiness that could easily return with a sighting of Kate Beckett.

It had been three days since her mother's case had been solved. Three days since Detective Beckett had closed the file. Three days since she had crossed her legs looking at Castle in silence, her hands in her lap. She had not spoken a word; had not shed a tear. Three days since she had suddenly got up from her desk and left him without a mention of where she was going.

Kate Beckett had managed to remain out of sight and had stripped herself completely from his world. She had been laying low, leaving little bits of her memory behind for Castle to meddle with; little clues to help him find her. He had been searching for her in all the right places. She had been at her desk the day before last. She had enjoyed a café latté. She did groceries earlier. Her doorman remembered it well. The further Beckett ran, the quicker Castle pursued; leading him to this graveyard, his last hope, his last chance to reel her back to reality.

So as his feet leave soggy marks in the grass of the cemetery, he is at last relieved to see the figure of a woman standing in the distance, her head hung low. Beckett is without an umbrella. Water spills off her coat travelling down her arm to the bouquet of flowers she holds in her hand. In front of her, cast in shadows, lies the headstone of Johanna Beckett.

He walks up to her, careful not to startle her.

"A cemetery in the middle of a dark rainy night," he says quietly, "You should be more careful. You never know what kind of creepy authors might sneak up behind you."

She does not move but utters, "I'm armed. I think I'll take my chances."

"I've been looking for you everywhere," he says. He takes an arm and hesitantly places it around her back, drawing himself beside her, covering her with his umbrella. The water drips from her hair and her coat, "You're soaked to the bone. You must be freezing," he says drawing her in closer to his body, "Come to my car," he instructs, "It's close. It's warm."

"I don't need to be coddled Castle," she says shifting her shoulder, her head still bent low.

"Then what is it that you need, Detective?" he asks trying to draw her eyes to his.

She sighs heavily, raising the flowers, taking the bouquet in both hands, "I don't know," she says, "For the first time in a long time, I don't know what I am supposed to do."

Finally she looks up at him, rain water running down her face; trails of black eyeliner stain her cheeks. He smiles slightly at her but is careful not to make a fuss. She cocks her head, brow furrowing. "What?" a hand drawn to her face. "Is it bad?"

He smiles again, shaking his head lightly, "No, no. It's fine," he lies.

Drawing a cotton handkerchief from his pocket, he brings it to her cheek. He can feel her heavy gaze as he carefully traces the lines of her eyes, her cheekbones, her jaw. Finally pulling away from her face, he looks at her impressed with his efforts. She smiles softly, her eyes now falling to his lips, drawing in a deep breath. She lowers her head once more.

"So what is it that I'm supposed to do now?" she asks, fingering a petal in her bouquet.

Castle brings his spare arm around her to rest at her back once more, his hand running down her hair, fingers resting at the base of her neck.

"You let go and live your life," Castle says with reason, looking down to watch as she fingers another petal. "But more importantly, you allow handsome young authors to get you out of the rain and take you home."

"Sounds good to me," she says looking up at him, "If you happen to see one, can you let him know."


	8. Comfort by Candle Light

_Comfort by Candle Light_

* * *

"Where is she?" he asks Detective Esposito, removing his arm from his coat.

Esposito, deep in conversation with Detective Ryan, looks in Richard Castle's direction and without missing a beat, motions with outstretched finger toward the bedroom door of Kate Beckett.

Castle nods, placing his jacket onto the back of a chair in front of him. Putting his hands together, rubbing gently, he takes cautious steps towards the closed door and upon reaching it, raps gently on the wood door with the back of his hand.

After a few seconds of unaltered silence, Castle begins to knock again, the door opening with the faintest of creaks.

A cold darkness fills his senses as he edges carefully into the room, hesitant to make any sudden movement or sound. A faint glow emitted from a bathroom door is the only light in the room. He takes final motions toward the door and slowly raises a hand to place his palm on its frame.

"Kate?" he calls softly, letting his hand feel the texture of the door frame. "It's me, Castle," he says hesitantly, leaning his body against the wall. His hand travels further down the frame to rest on its handle. He places his head against the door; his forehead makes contact with his barricade.

The light emitted from the bottom of the door flickers gently as motions are made inside the room. A faint swishing of water. The dripping of a tap.

His fingers fumble gently with the knob of her door and he imagines her beside him. To comfort her, so the heavy beating in his chest can subside. So that maybe he might have a chance of sleeping tonight.

More dripping of water. More slight splashing. Signals that there is life beyond.

He presses a palm against the door and it pushes ajar with little effort. Hot steam fills the air around him.

"I'm coming in," he declares entering quickly so as not to alter the blanket of warmth and comfort around her.

She sits in front of him, in the center of the room in a white porcelain footed tub of water and suds. Silent. Still. Arms folded around her, tucked into a ball. She is small and fragile looking. Unfamiliar to him in this state. He is unsure of what to say. Unsure of what to do. He is helpless; a writer whose skills are failing him in this time of need. He sighs quietly, and holds his breath unsure if his little bit of exasperation is uncalled for.

Finally he hears something escape her; a tiny sniffle.

It is all he needs to hear to move him in her direction and he falls to his knees at her side, a hand outreached for the side of the tub. Warm porcelain meets his grasp. Fingers outreached, inches from her skin.

She sniffles again and he takes the opportunity to reach up to her face drawing her wet, cold hair away from her features. Black smudges of eyeliner darken her eyes, running down her cheeks onto her knees where her head rests. Her eyes remain closed even now as he continues to run his fingers through her hair, allowing a sense of calm to take him over, trying his best to transfer his feelings, his thoughts through his fingertips.

"You're not supposed to be here," she says carefully opening an eye, dark and glossy she looks to him. "You're not supposed to see me like this."

"See you like what?" he asks quietly, allowing his hands to run from her hair to her neck resting on her shoulder, her skin cold to the touch.

"Broken," she says turning from him, allowing her body to shiver.

He takes his hand from her, unbuttons his shirt cuffs, and begins to roll up his sleeve.

"You're going to be ok Kate," he says dipping his hand into the warm water, finding a washcloth, "You just need to let go." He pauses before continuing, "Besides, I thought I was your friend."

"You are," she says, inhaling deeply as he drips warm water over her backside. She manages to catch her breath ever so slightly, her sniffling subsiding and she allows herself to concentrate on the feeling of the warmth flooding over her skin.

"Good," he says, a smile in his words, "I'm glad. I just want you to know that you don't have to do this alone this time around. I'm here for you."

She turns her head from her knees once more, looking back at him as he takes another cloth full of water and allows it to cascade over her back. His eyes focussed on her skin, the chill that has escaped her, the shiver that no longer remains.

Aware that she is looking at him, he smiles, running the cloth up her neck. He allows his eyes to meet hers and smiles carefully once more.

"She's really gone," she says, eyes welling, lips pursed.

He nods slowly, his brow furrowing slightly.

Her lips quivers, "I've been holding on all this time. It hurts so much." She rests her chin back on her knees, tightly pulling her arms around her body.

"Hey," he says softly, putting the cloth aside, running long fingers through her hair. He draws her attention. "The hardest part is letting go but you can do it. I know you can. You're stronger than you think you are."

"You think pretty highly of me," she says wiping her face with a shaking hand.

"You're worth it."

He says it so matter-of-factly that she turns from him slightly, taken aback. When his expression is unchanging she returns her head to her knees to rest her chin, and stares at the bath water in front of her. Finally aware of her present state, her gaze unchanging she asks, "Castle?"

"Yes," he returns, drawing his hands from the bath water.

"Could you hand me a towel?"


	9. Heat Wave

_Heat Wave_

* * *

High above the passerbys of the city of New York, the music, the liquor, the laughter and chatter continues endlessly into the evening. The stars alit across the sky; a cool September nights air rolls by outside as Richard Castle takes one last long look at the twinkling nights skyline, bravely turning opening the balcony door to the party that is for him. It is on this night that the fine citizens of Manhattan have gathered in his honour; to celebrate yet another bestseller amidst expensive wine, rich music and exquisite hors d'oeuvres.

A lively band plays as Castle enters, smiling and nodding to a woman as she approaches; a pen out for him, a book to sign.

"Who do I make this out to?" he asks, leaning into her so she may hear him amidst the noise, the ruckus of 500 hundred people gathered into one hall.

"Victoria," she says curtly, tilting her head, a finger tracing the line of her bosom.

She smiles as she notices Castle's gaze falling to her, following her graceful finger. He smiles shyly, quickly finishing his insignia before closing the book, returning it to her. Victoria smiles warmly as she opens the book, reading over what he has written; ten digits accompany his autograph. She looks up to see him walk away. He does not turn, does not she her jump slightly into the air holding the book to her chest.

"Richard!" a familiar voice calls out to him from behind a couple talking casually. He turns to see Gina, his ex-wife, slithering toward him, fangs barred.

She is adorned in a tight fitted, red dress which falls to her knees. Stiletto heels compliment her outfit, a clutch purse in her hand. She waves at him, drawing his attention. He finally brings himself to smile at her.

"Hello, Gina," he says through clenched teeth. "You're looking quite vixen this evening." He looks down at her his eyes travelling over her body, "That's a very lovely shade of red. What is it? _'Evening slut'_?"

Gina looks up, glaring, her lip curling, "Charming Richard. It's no wonder I divorced your ass years ago."

He holds up a hand, an index finger pointing her in the shoulder, "Ah. I believe it was me that divorced your ass, Gina. I believe his name was Ricardo. Your yoga instructor. Am I correct?"

A wry smile stretches across her face, lips thining, "His name was Sven, Richard," she pauses shaking her head, "Ricardo. You're so full of yourself. But of course-" she cuts herself short, eyes falling to the back of the room. "Well I'll be damned."

Richard follows her line of sight to the back where, through a crowd of people, through the hush of his guests, he makes out the figure of one Detective Kate Beckett. Dressed in a short strapless, black, tight fitted dress, she enters the room on the arm of FBI agent Will Sorenson. Castle feels his stomach tighten and shifts in his stance. It has been weeks since he has seen her. Weeks since he has heard her speak.

"Did you invite her?" he asks weakly, unable to take his eyes off her.

"Of course I did," she says tilting her head back to look at him, "The woman sells Richard. Since your little article in Cosmo, the books have been flying off the shelves." She looks him up and down. "Are you really that slow?"

Without looking her way, he begins to take a step from her, "Maybe," he says in monotone.

"What happened between you two anyway?" she questions, "She not enough woman for you Richard?" She reaches up to grab the lapels on his jacket, "Did you miss your Gina?"

He smiles down at her releasing her hands from his jacket, and continutes to take steps away from her, "You were more than enough woman for the both of us, Gina. That's why I dumped your ass all those years ago."

He edges through the crowd, taking slow steps toward his intended. Sorenson sees him first and in making motions toward Beckett, reaches out to touch her arm. He muffles something before Castle reaches them. Beckett turns to face him.

Castle smiles shyly as he reaches them and takes a careful look over Beckett's body, following long slender lines, curves, calves quickly reaching her face once more. Her eyes dark and smokey, she looks at him with desperation. Not a word escapes them.

"Nice shindig you have here," Sorenson says, leaning toward Castle so he may be heard.

"Thank you," Castle says flatly, eyes held with Beckett's.

He reaches out slowly and takes her hand from her hip, holding it gently with both hands. "You look fantastic," he says warmly now, bringing her hand to his lips.

She allows him the moment, caught in his stare. When he finally releases her, his eyes closing at the touch of his lips to her skin, her hands shakes and she pulls it away unsteadily.

"Thank you, Castle," she says, voice breaking, taking a step toward Sorenson, her sight focusing on something on the floor.

"I'm glad you came," Castle says pulling away from Beckett's body, looking to Will.

"Is that so," Will scoffs, leaning into Beckett, a hand to her lower back.

The air awkward, Castle follows his movements on her back, finally hooking a thump into his right pocket. His other arm he extends, bending it at the elbow, drawing Beckett's gaze once more. "Can I get you a drink," he asks, carefully.

Will leans forward, pressing a palm to Castle's chest, "Actually I was just going to-"

"I would love one," Beckett says looping a hand in his offered arm. Sorenson protests but Beckett leans in and upon whispering something in his ear, he backs off, frowning at Castle.

The air between them thickening in their solitude, Castle releases her arm and upon reaching the bar, leans across to the bartender, giving his instructions close to his ear, "Two very stiff Vodka martinis."

"Yes, Mr. Castle," the bartender nods to him, immediately turning behind him reaching for two chilled martini glasses.

Castle smiles awkwardly at Beckett who is looking at him with such confusion, both unaware of what to say.

"You look fantastic," he says sidling up to her, reaching out to touch her, a hand finds her hip.

"Yes, thank you," she says shyly, "You've said that already."

"Well you do," he says pulling his hand from her hip, turning to pick up their glasses which the bartender has placed behind him. He hands her the beverage and she smiles noticing the familiar drink in her hand.

"Three olives?" she questions.

"Your protein content for the evening," he takes a step into her, standing carefully by her side; hesitant to move any further from her body.

"It's good to see you Kate," he admits, and then, "I'm happy you came."

She looks down her body to her high-heeled shoes and twists her foot, kicking at something invisible on the carpet. "To be honest, I wasn't going to, but the Captain thought it would be best for the force. He's on cloud nine with all the publicity we've been getting with this little book of yours."

"Well nonetheless," he takes a sip of his drink, raising his eyebrows over his glass, "It wouldn't be a book signing party without Nikki Heat herself."

Beckett looks up from her own glass to the crowd that has gathered near them. All eyes in the room transfixed on the pair. She blushes slightly and adds, "Heat and Rook back together, eh?"

"Indeed. Rook does need his Heat."

The air between them thickening again in awkward silence. He turns behind him to place his glass on the bar, "Would you care to-"

"There you two are," Sorenson interrupts.

"Hello Will," Beckett says smiling; a sigh of relief.

"Would you like to dance, Kate," Sorenson says offering a hand, a lustful smirk.

Before she has a chance to say anything, Sorenson is lifting the glass from her hand, offering it to Castle, "Here you go Ricky. Be a good monkey and hold onto this for us, would you?"

Quickly they leave him, standing, mouth slightly held open. He takes a final glance at the pair, their bodies pressed tightly together. She whispers casually in his ear. Castle turns placing her glass beside his and treads heavily across the floor toward another adoring admirer.

***

It is later in the evening, with the crowd dwindling into a comfortable drunken stupor, that he sees her again, standing on the balcony. Will's hands resting on her hips, leaning in he talks to her casually, his body pressed tightly against her. She seems upset; her sights set on the dazzling city below. Will leans in to kiss her gently on the cheek and upon taking one last look at her turns exiting the balcony through the glass door. Several steps and he is looking at Castle, with a smirk of his lips he leaves his the party, making his way to the door. With a deep breath, Castle takes a few steps toward the glass door, entering the balcony quietly. Her hands holding onto the cement railing, she leans over slightly gaping at the quietness of the city from this height.

"Don't jump detective, I beg you," he says edging nearer to her.

She turns smiling, and in a dramatic southern accent, "Oh! Bless my soul. My hero. Mr. Castle."

His heart skips a beat, shocked by the playfulness in her character. He smiles back to her, sidling up, and takes a hand, resting it on the railing.

"So where is Special Agent Pain-in-my-Ass off to?"

She turns her head toward him carefully, a wry smile spreading across her face, "Special FBI business I'm sure," and in looking down to Castle's hands, his white knuckles, "You really shouldn't let him get to you. He's only jealous that's all." She turns away from him quickly, just missing his eyes as they dart across her face. She looks out across the city again.

"Jealous?" Castle adds playfully, "Why would he be jealous of little ol' _moi_?"

She smiles again, aware that she must address the subject, "Oh you must know."

He stares dumbfounded, yet hopeful.

On his vacant expression she continues. "Oh come on Rick. Look around." She points toward the door, turning her body to lean into the railing. "You're rich. You're popular. The ladies love you." She looks down, attempting to focus, "You have an amazing family. Ties with the public. With the mayor. Ties with the force." She quietly clears her throat, and in a whisper utters, "Ties with me." She looks up slowly, his features boyishly handsome. He smiles carefully.

"Ties with you?" he questions, "But my understanding is that we," he uses a finger to point between them, "We don't exist anymore."

She sighs heavily, "You're going to make this all the more difficult for me, aren't you?"

He leans into the railing, nodding, "I do try my best."

"I told you Montgomery is tickled pink with the press we've been getting and he would really like for you to come back. It is of course against my better judgment but he seems to think you're an asset to our work." She takes a deep breath. "I think he's afraid you'll drop Nikki Heat."

"So it's only _he_ who would really like me back?"

She stares blankly, "Don't push it writer boy."

Castle jumps slightly in the air and with clenched fists, shakes them in front of her, "Yes," he exclaims through clenched teeth. "You want me back. You need me."

"I _said_ don't push it," her tone firmer than before.

"Admit it Detective," he crosses his arms, "You miss having me around. You are finding it difficult to solve the crimes of this crazy messed up city without me. Heat needs her Rook. I get it."

"I repeat-"

"I know. I know. Don't push it. I heard you," he reaches out swiftly to cup her face with both hands, "Thank you, Detective. Thank you." He takes a moment to look her face over and admits almost too carelessly, "I could kiss you right about now."

Her back straight, her expressionless face cupped gently in his hands, he leans into her, carefully.

"Richard, there you are," Martha Rogers calls out from the door to the balcony.

Castle releases Beckett turning to face his mother, "Yes Mother," he hisses.

"It's speech time deary," she looks to Beckett and smiles, "Hello Detective."

Beckett lifts a hand to wave at Martha continuing in its motion to push a piece of hair behind her ear.

When Castle has not moved, Martha adds, "Richard. Now. Gina will have my head." As quickly as she has appeared, Martha exits, dissolving into the crowd within.

Castle clears his throat, "Well," he says.

"Well," Beckett replies bringing her hands in front of her.

Castle offers an arm to her, begging for her hand, "Come with me," he requests casually, "Rook needs his Heat."


	10. Inhale Exhale

_Inhale. Exhale._

* * *

Inhale.

It pumps readily, steadily, echoing the residual silence within her. Cautionary steps reckoning the chance of survival as she falls deeper into despair dragging her core down into thick darkness. "She's gone," she says aloud, allowing herself to form some sort of reality. She feels dead inside. Quiet in the stillness as the validity of her mother's death swarms to swallow her whole. She wonders if breathing will ever be possible, if she'll ever stop from drowning, if air will ever taste sweet again. Emotions raw and heavy, she brings her hand to her chest to rest her palm flat against her breast and waits, pleading, but there is nothing in the stillness of the thick haze around her; blinking through lights which pierce blue and red though the night's chill. She blinks as if it could help her focus and closes her eyes as tears run down her cheek leaving lines of salty bitterness. They fall to the ground where traces of her mother's life force still remains; a pool at her feet.

Exhale.

It boils to the top of her gurgling over the edge in her own inability to gain self control. Beautiful eyes. She scoffs, angry with herself with the grin threatening to make it's appearance. She passes an officer in the hall. Squeezes by Esposito who is caught in a heated battle of rock, paper, scissors with Ryan. She can feel the heat on her flesh, the twitch in her eye, and a reality sinking in. Had she really just met him? The idol she had worshipped for so many years; had read; had pondered, waiting for a chance to meet. And now he was within her midst and he was nothing more than a cocky, self-absorbed golden idol. Yes, indeed, Richard Castle was every bit the womanizer she had thought he could be and more. Beautiful eyes. She scoffs once more turning to sort some papers on her desk, only to look up and see him walk down an adjacent hallway. She turns away, her face immediately blushing once more. Damn.

Inhale.

Dread sinks heavily into form. Touchable. Hardened features invade deeply to create lines on her smooth skin. This is my fault, she reasons. I have to be held accountable. I have to take the blame. She sidles up to the coffee pot in the hospital waiting room. A friend lying not far. A team of surgeons fighting for him; fighting for Will. Helpless, she takes a cup as Castle draws near to her, offering soothing words she cares not to hear. Her mind wanders to thoughts of what was and what could have been. She is not sure what to do with her hands, so she holds her cup and takes a seat, Castle perching on the arm of their shared seating arrangement. His words pass by her. Unable to focus, she reasons with what he tells her. Will. He finishes and she questions what he has said. Extraordinary? Had he said it? His honesty strikes her, pulling her from her reverie. She turns to look at him as his words begin to make sense. And as if a fog has cleared, she succumbs to the realization. Could the feelings she tried so hard to suppress be valid and could, perchance in time, the admiration she felt for him turn into something more; something deep, something pure. She contemplates saying something in return. Some sort of declaration to match his intent but instead there is news that Will pulled through and she forgets what she has to say.

Exhale.

"It's about your mother," he says and her mouth turns dry. She steps back as knees weaken and breath turns heavy. He has done it; the one thing she asked him not to do. She silently curses him as he looks to her with such despair. Is he praying that she will say something? As she looks for words she begins to curse herself for trusting him; the one person she needs, the one person she had to hold true to. She blinks, attempting to focus through eyes which brim with tears. "Why Castle?" It is all she can muster, and it escapes her without much sound, almost as silent as breath. She contemplates flight and takes to it, turning from him to tread down the hall. He reaches out to grab her arm. "No!" she commands as a nurse walks between them. "I told you," she continues, "We're through". The aching ensues as she heads for her retreat in the sanctuary of Will's room, to his arms where she tries to gasp for breath.

Inhale.

He is genuine before her; hands by his side. He seems naked without his tricks, without comical smirks and one liners. She can see the caution in his choosing of words; sincerity lining his face. "I'm sorry", he says profoundly, deeply, moving her to her very core, and she can feel her features softening, the tension between them diminishing. Could it really be that simple, she wonders. Is this how easy it could be? With a simple declaration of the self she is left defenseless, her anger melting away. And as he turns to leave her, his tail between his legs, she pleads with herself to call out to him; to fix the wrong, to make them right. Damn, she confides to herself, sighing silently. "Castle," she calls out without looking up, protecting herself in this weakness, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Exhale.


	11. Oh, Danny Boy

_Oh, Danny Boy_

* * *

Air frigid with a north wind that rips through alleys, through buildings with animosity toward the intended. Detective Kate Beckett raises her collar to shield herself from a gust and hurries from her vehicle. Richard Castle draws in close beside her, opening the door to the pub before them.

"What the heck is with this weather?" he gasps as they enter the building lowering their shoulders, accepting the warmth. "Can you call Canada, tell them to take this crap back?"

"Suck it up Princess." Beckett smiles at him opening her coat, removing her gloves before entering the second door to the building.

There is a slight murmuring in the pub; glasses being filled and emptied, tips being thrown before bartenders who roll their eyes, collecting the discarded loot.  
The decor torn from any Irish pub in the movies with hints of Italian flair. The air is heavy with hot thickness, causing Beckett to unbutton her coat, to take a deep breath as she approaches the nearest bartender.

"Danny Boy," Beckett asks nodding toward the middle aged man with greying hair. "Where can we find him?"

"Who's asking?" The man takes the towel from his shoulder and grabbing a wet glass, he dries it, never tearing his eyes from Beckett.

Beckett looks to Castle and then back to the barkeep. "Let's just say I'm a friend." Beckett cocks an eyebrow leaning in toward him.

The bartender raises his brow, grinning from ear to ear. "You could have fooled me sweetcheeks," he says looking down her front. "You smell like a cop to me." He continues to look her over seductively "A ... sweet... piece of ass... cop." He grins proudly continuing to dry the glass in his hands.

Beckett holds an innocent smile and giggles girlishly. Castle stands behind her unsure of what to do, his hands by his side. She raises a finger motioning for the barkeep to come closer and when he abides, she loops a finger in one of the folds of his shirt, clutching the fabric in her fingers.

Her features turn, she lowers her voice. "You want a warrant to go with that smart ass mouth of yours," she hisses, and before he can open his mouth in protest, without her focus leaving his eyes, "Or how about a citation for the expired liquor license you have."

There is a jittery noise behind them as a group of young women enter joyfully. Behind the group, a single woman dressed in a white veil and white t-shirt with the words, "Last Night Out" written in black, enters.  
She stumbles behind them and trips over uneven carpeting, tumbling into the unsuspecting arms of one Richard Castle. She laughs raising her face to his, embarrassed, flushed red. In a heated moment, she grabs his face locking her lips to his, her tongue meeting his mouth feverishly. It is several seconds later when with eyebrow raised, Detective Beckett crosses her arms, clearing her throat. The bride-to-be breaks their bond giggling to her friends. She shrieks joining up with them, bounding across the bar to a booth at the back.

Castle chews slightly. Unsure of himself, he wrinkles his brow. Off Beckett's look of disgust, he reaches into his mouth, pulling out a small wad of chewing gum. He holds it in his finger tips, raising it for Beckett to see.

"Funny," he gasps slightly. "I don't remember having gum before."

Beckett rolls her eyes sighing and turns, her eyes now adjusted to the dim lighting in the bar.

"Danny Boy?" she asks annoyed.

The barkeep points to a dark corner at the back of the stuffy room. Beckett nods her head at him, taking steps from the bar.

"You can't be serious," Castle gasps catching up to her, grabbing her arm.

She looks over her shoulder at him, pulling her arm from his grasp and frowns. "I can't be serious about what?" she asks him.

"She kissed me," he defends putting his hands flat against his chest.

Beckett eyes Danny Boy and waves a hand at Castle silencing him. "I really don't care who kissed who Castle. You can kiss any cheap girl you want. I have no claim." She presses her sweaty palms against her body and grabs the edges of her coat.

"Hey Danny," Beckett calls out, sauntering up to him, rotating her hips toward him. He sits in a dark booth with two large, heavy set, dark haired Italians on one side of him. Danny Boy incarnate, times two.

Finishing the remnants of his pint, Danny Boy looks up from his frothy glass. He cocks his head toward Beckett eyeing her up and down. "Hey Sexy." He watches as Castle edges up to her and stands, finally removing himself from the booth.

"And what can I do for you?" Danny asks as he approaches, and reaches out to grab one of the large buttons on her coat. His eyes trail over her curves. "You _are_ one tall glass of sexy aren't you."

Castle steps to the side releasing a sigh.

"Can I help you with something?" Danny asks Castle taking another step toward Beckett.

"Very smooth buddy," Castle scoffs, tucking a hand in his pant pocket.

Danny leaves Beckett's side moving to stand directly in front of Castle. At his movement, his two sidekicks stand quickly and move toward them.

"And what would you be meaning by that, exactly?" he asks.

Beckett flashes her badge toward Danny Boy. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We have a few questions we'd like to ask you about a murder that took place."

Danny Boy takes several steps back, his entourage framing him like book ends. "And why in sweet heaven's name would I be willing to do that?"

Beckett sighs, placing her badge back in her pocket. "Danny, we can do this the hard way or the easy way."

"I've got nothing I want to say to you?"

Beckett takes a step, closing the gap between them. "I think you do Danny. I think you'll have plenty to say especially when I show you pictures of a little girl we found up on Amsterdam."

"I don't know anything about no little girl." Danny crosses his arms, his entourage doing the same in perfect unison.

Beckett sighs. "Where were you last night Danny, between the hours of 11 and 12?"

Danny draws a breath and spits at Beckett's feet. Beckett looks to the floor, slowing drawing her eyes back up to the large man in front of her. Danny leans back, his beady eyes looking down at Beckett. "Screw you."

"Screw me?" Beckett questions placing a hand to her chest, mocking him.

Danny starts to laugh, causing his compadres to laugh with him. He takes a step toward her so she can feel his breath on her skin. "If you so insist."

Fist meets face suddenly from the side, and Richard Castle pulls his hand back quickly, releasing a high pitched squeal. He barely has enough time to shake his hand before a large fist, behind the large arm of Danny Boy meets his nose. Blood spurts instantly causing him to reel forward punching out. Praying to make contact with the overgrown buffoon in front of him, he meets something solid. Another punch to his face and Richard Castle can hear the bones break in his hand, can feel his jaw shift from side to side as he is pelted with two quick punches from his attacker.

There is shuffling and a kick to the back of Danny Boy's knee as he topples face first into Castle causing the pair to collide heavily with the hard tile. Danny struggles above him, wriggles to get free. And as eyes are opened slowly, Castle looks up to see Beckett on top of the two of them. Her hair falling in front of her face, her skin red from the fight, she takes a breath and flicks her hair from her face, pulling the man twice her size from Castle. Beckett sits Danny Boy down aggressively, cuffing him behind his back to the chair.

Castle brings his hands up, wincing at the pain beginning in his right hand. Beckett reaches down as Castle offers his left hand. She pulls him to a standing position. Blood cascading down his face, his left eye quickly becoming red and inflamed. She shakes her head taking the bar towel offered from the barkeep to her right.

"Here," she says handing it to him, wincing herself as he brings it to his nose.

"Is it bad?" he asks through the blood, bubbles forming at his lips.

She smiles awkwardly at him, his eyes peeking out from behind the white towel, quickly soaking with his blood. "What did you do that for?" she asks tenderly, taking the towel from him and tilts his head toward her so she can see the damage.

Castle looks at her. Sparkling blues meeting her eyes. He smiles shyly. "He was threatening your honour," he says matter-of-factly.

Beckett breathes in releasing a heavy sigh and lowers her eyes from his. "Next time Castle, you let me worry about my honour and you just worry about swinging your left as well as your right."

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. :) Love you guys... Writer Ninja Out!_


	12. I Need You

_ I need you...  
_

* * *

He knocks quietly on the door of 22D and waits with anticipation for footsteps that tread hesitantly toward him. The door opens revealing a barefoot Kate Beckett, dressed in loose fitted T-shirt and sweatpants, her hair tied loosely. She looks up at him slowly, unable to hide the sadness in her eyes and he pauses for a moment letting the honesty in her presence fill him.

"Hi," he says softly wishing his words held more comfort to her, wishing that he was wrapping his arms around her.

"Hi," she says, unable to hide the shaking in her voice that would tell him she needed his touch.

He smiles warmly. "I was in the neighbourhood and thought..." He trails on seeing her raise her brow, a slight smile move her lips.

"You were in the neighbourhood?" she questions, stepping aside to let him enter.

He nods slowly, motioning through the door.

She turns away from him to close the door, letting her hand rest on its frame. She feels him stand close to her, a hand reaches out to touch her shoulder.

"You weren't at the Precinct today," his voice flat. He inhales. "I thought maybe-"

"I'm fine Castle."

He can hear the lie in her words, sees the heaviness in her steps as she treads toward the kitchen opening a cupboard, pulling out a wine glass from above her head.

"Do you want a drink?" she asks without turning, popping the stopper on a glass decanter sitting on her counter.

"Sure," he answers, watching her shoulders tighten as she reaches for another glass.

She pours the liquid unsteadily and curses slightly under her breath. She turns walking toward him and holds the glass for him, careful not to make eye contact. Quickly she turns from him heading toward the couch and sits. She places the glass to her lips and drains half the liquid. She reaches for the bottle as he edges next to her and he watches as she tilts it, filling her glass with the dark liquid. He watches her closely as she places the decanter down, sighing as she leans back accepting the comfort.

He looks in front of him to the coffee table before them. Images of her mother scatter amidst folders and printed paper.

She closes her eyes, the wine glass loose in her grasp, her other hand limp by her side.

Castle places his glass to his mouth letting the liquid numb his senses. He looks to her again, watches as her eyes close. He reaches out steadily taking her hand in his and moves fingertips gently on her skin. Her hand warm within his, she opens her eyes as he offers a careful smile. Lips part, but no words escape him.

She smiles shakily and it fades quickly as she pulls her hand from his, covering her eyes. He places his glass on the table careful not to disturb the contents. He reaches across taking the glass held loosely in her hand and places it beside his.

He turns back to her, watches as she draws both hands up to cover her face. He reaches up pulling them away.

The tears steaming down her face, she refuses to open her eyes. He drapes an arm across her shoulder pulling her gently against him. She stiffens at his touch, her shoulders square, unsure what she is to do.

His hand moves on her, running from her shoulder down her side. "It's ok," he soothes, letting his fingertips climb back up her body.

She rotates slowly to place her cheek flush against him, and unsteadily draws another breath. Little by little, she allows her body to align with his, finally releasing a hand from her lap, placing it around his side, grounding herself.

He hears her sob, feels her shudder as the emotion takes hold of her causing her to sink lower on him, her head placed on his lap. She picks up her feet curling her body to rest beside him. He allows his hands to travel her body slowly and reaches up to draw several strands of hair from her face.

It is some time before her breathing begins to slow and her body succumbs to his touch. Faced away from him, she wipes tears, her skin raw and red.

"Kate," he tries, hearing the oddity in saying her name. "You told me that you want me around when you find this son of a bitch."

She inhales heavily. "I do."

"If that's true," he says, allowing his arm to drape across her body to pull her tighter against him. "I can't have you do this anymore."

She rotates to look up at him. A quizzical look invading her features.

"I can't have you hiding away up here. Alone." He inhales. "It's unhealthy. Not to mention, totally unbecoming of a New York City detective."

She smiles warmly and shifts again.

"We'll find him. I promise." He draws more hair from her face. "But until then, I want you to need me."

He watches nervously, until the familiar corners of her mouth turn upward, and she sits up to place both feet on the floor. She reaches for her glass and sips slowly. Wrapping both hands around her glass she tilts her head toward him, keeping her eyes low. "I do need you Castle. I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Castle says smiling. "Just don't let it happen again."

She looks up at him, eyes bloodshot, and bites her lip. "I won't."


	13. The Lockers

_The Lockers_

* * *

"Has anybody seen Beckett?" Richard Castle asks entering the break room holding a case file.

Detectives Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan stand holding mugs of freshly brewed coffee.

Esposito looks to Castle. "What Castle? Did she leave you unleashed?"

Castle raises an eyebrow. "Ha!" he exclaims. "That one never gets old."

Ryan looks up from his mug. "Honestly Castle, I think I saw her head upstairs for one of her sparring matches." He raises an eyebrow. "You thinking about joining her?"

Esposito elbows Ryan nearly spilling his coffee. "You see, that I would pay to see."

Castle turns on a dime leaving them to chuckle among themselves.

***

Head down, reviewing the file in hand, Castle pushes on the door to the room and enters turning a corner. Smells and shadows not quite right, he looks up to find he has wandered into an adjoining room. Another step and he is surrounded by lockers, the fresh scent of a shower lingering in the room. Ignoring the cautionary signs clicking in his brain, he carries on forward carefully closing the folder, hugging it to his chest. The heat in the room is stifling, he holds back the desire to remove his heavy suit jacket.

He turns a corner quickly, jumping back out of sight, back flat against the row of lockers. Heartbeat quickening, he carefully takes a breath. Bracing himself, he edges toward the corner of the lockers and peeks around.

Careful to stay out of sight, his eyes are set upon her. Her skin warm, fresh from the shower, beads of water run down her body supple and pink. Her tight form bracing as she runs the towel over her body, thorough so not to miss a spot.

Castle smiles as she runs the towel up and down her long legs, the heat rising within him.

A sound is made behind him and he turns quickly to see Detective Roselyn Karpowski standing with arms crossed, a look of pure disgust stretched across her face.

Guilt fills him, steadily rising, flushing his face. He puts a hand up, frantically waving to silence her before she has an opportunity to open her mouth.

Karpowski takes steps to pass him and peeks around the corner of the locker. She shakes her head at him casually and shrugs saying, "I'd hit that."

***

Downstairs, in the confines of the break room, Esposito and Ryan enter with empty mugs. Castle looks up at them accusingly, his face twisted.

"What?" Esposito asks.

Castle shakes his head adding cream to his coffee. "Nothing."

Ryan bumps Castle's arm, reaching across to place his mug under the spout of the espresso machine. "So Castle, you get to see Beckett?"

Castle looks up, blushing. After a moment of searching Ryan's face, he smiles, taking a sip from his mug. "You could say that."


	14. After the Blast

**SPOILER ALERT: This one shot takes place after 2x17: Tick, Tick, Tick... So if you haven't seen it... I suggest you read no further.**

* * *

_After the Blast_

* * *

Richard Castle looks up dazed. The humming in his ears numbing his senses. Disbelief and grief strike him but he finds the will to edge forward; one foot in front of the other.

Sirens in the distance, he reaches the middle of the street feeling the heat emitting from the front of her apartment. Flames erupt, diminishing into the night's air, bringing with it dark thick smoke, pooling up the side of the building.

Richard Castle blinks. People flee from the building; hand in hand, small children scream in the arms of their parents.

He turns on his heel heading toward the rear entrance to the building. People push past him; the thick door to the building bangs back and forth against brick. He squeezes in through a small opening and climbs stairs two by two. He reaches the second floor as the last of the tenants exit the building below him.

He opens the heavy door and chokes on the smoke that greets him. Lowering his head, he inhales slowly and using his hand, follows the wall. An orange glow emits from the apartment of Kate Beckett and he enters finding the smoke thin, billowing out the blown out windows. The door of apartment 203 lies beneath his feet.

Shock takes hold of him for a moment, and he looks around at the disaster that lies before him. Fire burning, ceiling ripped to shreds; light fixtures hang by tight cords dangling dangerously. Furniture stands at different angles, on their sides, pushed clear across the room from the blast.

He gulps and finds strength within. "Kate!" he booms, and listens, strains above the ever increasing sirens, above the hum in his own ears.

He hears nothing but presses on quickly, pushing himself on through her apartment away from the open window where flames still burn.

"Kate!" he calls again, and coughs releasing smoke from his lungs.

He turns a corner, sees the open door of the bathroom, a shower curtain dangling from bent round rod. He walks quickly toward it and it dawns on him, "What would Kate Beckett do?"

"Kate!" he yells frantically falling to his knees pulling back the curtain from around the thick porcelain tub, revealing a loosely toweled Kate Beckett, curled into a ball at the bottom of the tub. "Kate! Can you hear me?" He reaches down cupping her face.

She flinches; moans and coughs violently. She looks up, grabs his hand from her face.

"Thank God," Castle breathes. He supports the back of her neck and smiles. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

He rises to his feet. A violent coughing fit takes him over and he reaches out to brace himself against the side of the tub, stars shoot across his vision.

"Castle?"

He looks to the side, watches as her towel falls to the floor. His world fades to black.

***

Richard Castle opens his eyes looking up to flashing red and blue lights and a night's sky.

"Where am I?" he says, his voice muffled through an oxygen mask tied loosely to his face. He is lying on a stretcher.

"Welcome back Mr. Castle," a paramedic calls to him. She holds his wrist, checks his pulse. "You have quite the nasty bought of smoke inhalation. Try to remain calm."

"Beckett?" he calls out frantically. "Where's Beckett?"

"I'm right here Castle."

Beckett sidles up to stand beside his stretcher. She is dressed in her "Police" blues, a thick wool blanket is wrapped around her shoulders. He reaches out. She takes his hand.

Castle pulls the mask from his face. "You alright?"

She sighs, smiles. "I'm fine. A small case of smoke inhalation, a few bruises and one killer headache." She squints furrowing her brow. "My ear are ringing." Beckett looks to the paramedic in front of her. "How is he?"

The paramedic smiles and looks up to Beckett. "He should be alright. We'd like to take you both in for full examinations."

Beckett smiles, nodding and walks with the stretcher toward the open ambulance, Castle's fingers still laced with her own.

***

"So what happened to me back there?" Castle asks once the bus is moving.

Beckett smiles releasing her fingers from his. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was coughing..." He pauses, eyes widening. He looks her up and down slightly and smiles. "Then the world went black."

Beckett scoffs. "Oh really?" She leans forward, her lips close to his ear. "So it had nothing to do with you seeing me naked?"

Castle watches her lean back against the wall of the ambulance. Watches as she places her hands in her lap.

"You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?" He looks to the ceiling. "I don't think I could live that one down."

Beckett chuckles softly and looks down to play with her fingers. "Don't worry Castle. Your secret's safe with me."


	15. The Tattoo

_The Tattoo _

_

* * *

_

"Mr. Keller!" booms the voice of Kate Beckett.

Through a crowd of people, she can see Peter Keller standing. He turns his head quickly toward her. He is tall with dark hair and eyes the colour of milk chocolate.

"Mr. Keller," she repeats taking a few steps in his direction.

Keller's eyes widen. He turns quickly and sets off at a full run in the other direction.

"Damn it," Beckett mutters pushing on. "Why do they always run?"

He turns a corner and she is quick to turn with him; lengthening her stride, quickening her steps. A horn honks beside her.

"Don't worry Beckett!" shouts the familiar voice of Richard Castle. "I got this!"

Beckett turns to her left and watches as Castle turns a sharp right in heavy pursuit behind the wheel of her police cruiser.

"Damn it Castle," she mutters. "I told you to stay in the car." She turns another corner, watches as the cruiser vanishes from her sight. She curses Castle under her breath.

Keller turns down an alley, passing easily through a hole in a chain link fence dividing the alley. Beckett ducks, poking her head quickly through the opening. Pulling her body through, she is stopped by a tugging at her jacket, followed by the sound of the fabric tearing. She curses under her breath but continues to press on; shortening the gap between her and her intended.

There is the screeching of tires on pavement at the end of the alley and it is not long before her police cruiser comes to a deadening halt, blocking Keller's exit. Keller looks behind him, sees Beckett gaining on him, turns back quickly to an unsuspecting Castle who falls backward holding onto the perpetrator.

Beckett is quick to jump the duo, digging her knee into Keller's back. She leans forward hovering over them.

"I thought I told you to stay in the car," she says gasping. Her face red; droplets of sweat form.

Castle looks to her shirt and then up at her face. "In my defence, I was in the car."

Beckett cocks her head glaring at him. Reaching for Keller's free hand, cuffs in her other, she looks down at Castle. He is squinting, lifting his head toward her. She follows his line of sight right down her top.

"Castle!" she shouts.

"Is that..." He begins lifting his head closer. "Is that my autograph."

Beckett's eyes widen and she stands up quickly pulling Keller off of Castle. She pushes Keller heavily against the car. "Peter Keller, you have the right to remain silent-"

"It is, isn't it?!" Castle exclaims.

Beckett sighs and begins to pat down her suspect. "Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law-"

"It's a tattoo. Oh my God..." Inhaling deeply, Castle bites his fist.

"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you."

"How long have your had it?" Castle smiles at her. "Do you know how incredibly sexy it is that you have a little of me on your chest?"

"Castle," she gasps. "Shut up. Some of us are trying to work here."

Castle smiles, a wide grin stretching across his face.

Beckett sighs again. "Mr. Keller, do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

Keller smiles and looks back to Beckett. "Sure. Fine. Whatever. Can we see that tattoo now?"

Beckett pulls on his shoulders peeling him from the car. She turns back to Castle who raises his shoulders to her. Keeping eyes on Castle, she opens the car door.

"Watch your head," she instructs Keller as he lowers himself into the back seat of the cruiser.

Castle raises a single eyebrow.

"What?!" Beckett exclaims, the heat rising within her.

"Can we?"


	16. Early Morning Wanderings

_Early Morning Wanderings _

* * *

She feels the air move over her skin; feels the slight brushing of fingertips as several strands of hair are removed from her face. Her eyes open slowly, fluttering in the darkness and she squints, running her hands over the silky bed sheets beneath her.

"Castle?" Kate Beckett mutters, lifting herself to rest on her elbows.

"Sorry," he says and shifts in his seat.

Richard Castle sits by her bedside in an oversized chair draped with scarves of various colours and textures. A feather boa lies in his lap.

"Castle," she says carefully, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Sorry," he says again, this time flatly.

She raises an eyebrow and turns her body to face the ceiling. "Ok Castle, if I'm going to be staying here until I get a new place, we need to set a few ground rules." She sits up as she turns back to him, her eyes now fully adjusted to the dim light of the early morning.

He stares back blankly, body motionless.

"Castle."

He blinks and nods. "Sure. Whatever you want."

She smiles wryly bringing her knees to her chest and leans back against the headboard. "What's the matter, Castle?"

He sighs slightly. "Hmm?"

She cocks her head and waits for him.

"Oh." He is quick to leap out of the chair, slumping down beside her on the bed; he catches her off guard. One hand draped over her, he leans in. "I had a bad dream," he recants. "It was so vivid. So real." He reaches out with two fingers to touch her face, letting his fingertips trail down her cheek bone.

She closes her eyes without hesitation as his fingers touch her skin. She can feel the awkwardness in him as he pulls from her. Her eyes flutter to find him staring back at her; his face reading relief. She brings her legs in tighter against her body.

"Well," she begins, running her hand through her hair. "As you can see everything is all right now." She waits, waits for him to make the first motions. "Do you need me to tuck you in or something?" she asks breaking the tension.

His back straightens, eyes widening. "Yes, please."

She motions toward the door. "Night, Castle."

He smiles impressed with himself, and stands leaning over her. Carefully, he places a kiss to the top of her head. He breaks from her, slowly pulling away. In his hands lies a hand gun. He looks to her raising his brow in confusion.

"I told you," she says, taking it aggressively from him, replacing it behind her under pillow. "I sleep with a gun." She smiles tilting her head. "And if you're not out of here by the count of three, I'm going to he using it on you."


	17. The Captive

_The Captive_

* * *

"Castle?" Kate Beckett calls out against lavish walls and thick mahogany flooring.

"In here."

She hears it faint; muffled through a closed door. She edges down the hallway, drawing nearer to the sound and pushes on the door hesitantly.

"Castle?" she says again, hearing her voice fading in the darkness of the room.

"Over here."

She allows her eyes to adjust to the dim glow of candlelight, allows the scene to play before her.

"Oh my," she says, covering her mouth to hide a wide grin.

Castle sits against his backboard, hands bound by handcuffs to the posters of his bed. She chuckles to herself as she draws near. She notices the red welts rising on his chest and looks down to the strategically placed pillow on his lap.

"Please," he says shyly. "Please don't judge me."

"Oh, Castle," she says crossing her arms. "I think we're a little late for that one."

Castle lowers his eyes, carefully planning his next course of action. "I see," he mutters. "If I told you it was flying monkeys would you believe me?"

She opens her mouth, and points a single finger to her chin. "I'm going to go with, no."

"I was the victim of an elaborate government experiment?"

"No."

"Aliens?"

"Still no."

Beckett edges nearer, sidling up to his bedside.

"You're my only hope," Castle says looking up with large blues.

Beckett nods shortly. "You know I have every right to leave you this way."

"But you wouldn't, would you," Castle pleads. He is searching her face, looking for a sign. "Think about Alexis."

Beckett scoffs and turns on her heel. "That is just plain tacky, Mr. Castle." She shakes her head. "Using Alexis against me..."

Beckett is a few feet from the door before he shouts after her. "Beckett please!" He breathes in heavily. "I need you."

Beckett stops and turns her head slowly toward him. "You need me?"

"Yes, of course. I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Beckett sidles up to the bed again, sits beside him and reaches out, grabbing a candle. Its faint glow illuminates her face. She brings it to hover over his skin.

"Mr. Castle," she begins, twirling the wax in the hollow of the candle. "You'll need to promise me something."

Castle looks up, eyes wide. "OK," he says hesitantly. "What exactly?"

She looks down at the wax, tips the candle forward ever so slightly. "No more whining about wanting to drive."

Castle remains silent, instead stares at the candle; the hint of wax that draws nearer to the edge.

"Castle?" she says raising a brow.

He sucks in a breath. "I'm thinking."

She sighs and puts down the candle. "Well think a little harder." She stands, takes a few steps before he calls out to her.

"Wait!" he begs. "Come back. I promise."

She crosses her arms, returns to his side. "You promise?"

He nods in agreement.

"No more begging. No more pleading."

He shakes his head.

"Fine," she reaches into her pocket, pulls out a black leather satchel, and pulls out a small key.

"One question though," he says as one hand is released from his bonds. "Can we at least put in for one of those slick FBI super mobiles-" He sees her looking down at him questionably. "-with... all the gadgets... in the back?"


End file.
